


the only thing i ever held sacred (was your name)

by fleurting



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 15:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurting/pseuds/fleurting
Summary: Steve's an insomniac. Tony sleepwalks.





	the only thing i ever held sacred (was your name)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cap IM Tiny RB Round 10: Golden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970258) by [cap_ironman_community_mod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cap_ironman_community_mod/pseuds/cap_ironman_community_mod). 



> For the free space square on my stony bingo card as well as the Cap IM Tiny RB Round 10. 
> 
> Title taken from [this](http://antephialtics.tumblr.com/post/159003410186/they-say-war-is-hell-so-peace-should-be-holy) poem.

Steve has always had insomniac tendencies. When he was younger it was because of the ailments, the coughs that would rattle his chest and drag him upright and out of any peaceful slumber. After the serum, he didn't have much time to sleep. Not that it would have mattered much if he did. What people don't know is that the serum made him immune to fatigue. It destroys the fatigue inducing toxins that everyone else has. He needs at most, two or three hours a sleep per week.

He knows the other Avengers have trouble sleeping too. He's sparred with Natasha when she wanted to get out of her own head, watched as Clint fired arrow after arrow until he was so exhausted he physically couldn't, he's sat with Wanda on the sofa, watching television show after television show without uttering a word. They all have _trouble_ sleeping but they still do it. And for more than a couple of hours per week. Steve's often left to his own devices.

He works out, of course. For hours upon hours. He never tires from it physically, but his mind gets bored of the routine. He reads, choosing titles from a list Pepper's given him. He listens to music, all of which are Sam's recommendations. He draws. He tries to stick to landscapes. People are too dangerous.

But he gets - not _tired_ but...restless. He's walked the halls of Stark Tower so many times he would have lost count by now if his mind wasn't stubbornly eidetic. He runs into Tony often during these walks, though Tony is always a lot less awake than he is. He’s usually in a faded old band t-shirt, some Steve recognizes now, thanks to Sam’s tutoring, some he doesn't, boxers, with a worn fuzzy robe and slippers on his feet. He’s also usually muttering something that wouldn't make sense Steve even if Tony was functioning normally. The first few times he’d tried to steer Tony back to his quarters but after the incident where Tony called his armor to him in his sleep and almost killed Steve on instinct, he left it alone. He would step in if he happened to be nearby and noticed Tony was doing something dangerous, like the time he almost stuck a fork in the toaster, but mostly he just left him alone.

It’s early still, so he’s doing his first workout routine of the night, in the midst of his first set of push-ups when he feels about 220 pounds of weight on his back. He cranes his neck around and finds Tony, completely out of it, with a vintage _Captain America_ comic (Steve wonders where he’s been hiding it, Natasha told him all of Tony’s _Captain America_ merchandise had mysteriously disappeared the week Steve moved in) in his left hand, and a bag of Doritos in his right. Steve chuckles and continues with his push-ups, partially because the extra weight makes his routine a smidgen harder, but mostly because he's an asshole who wants to see the look in Tony’s face when he sees the footage of this in the morning.

Once he’s done, he bucks Tony off, and not very gently in the hopes of waking him from his sleepwalking state but it proves fruitless.

Steve sighs, wrapping one arm around Tony’s waist and bringing Tony’s arm around his neck. “C’mon, Tony, let's get you to bed.”

Steve walks Tony to the elevator, humming noncommittally as Tony incessantly babbles on.

When the elevator reaches Tony’s floor, Steve scans his own hand out of habit but draws back once he remembers its Tony floor and he won't have access. Surprisingly, the doors open anyway. He makes a mental note to ruminate on that later.

Steve expects Tony’s room to look his workshop, which Steve calls a mess and Tony calls organized chaos, but the room is remarkably empty. It's not immaculately clean or anything, (because of course it isn't, it's _Tony’s_ ) there are clothes strewn across the floor and gadgets and tool lying around but it still feels - cold. Distinctly impersonal. It takes Steve's a minute to realize that's probably because Tony doesn't spend much time here.

Steve helps Tony get into bed but in the process Tony’s arms wind up around Steve’s neck and refuse to let go. Steve could easily overpower Tony’s grip but he doesn't want to wake him. Tony may be sleepwalking but at least he's _sleeping_. Steve knows he doesn't get much of it very often.

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve sits down gingerly on the bed. Tony yanks Steve down until he’s lying down beside him. Steve means to get back up immediately. He truly does. But Tony’s bed is soft, and the heat coming from Tony is warm, and he can smell Tony’s aftershave, which is a scent that has become a comfort recently and before Steve can remember why this is a _bad idea_ he’s closing his eyes. He doesn't sleep but instead listens to the comforting sound of Tony's breathing, smiles at the random nonsensical muttering that come out Tony’s mouth, and tries desperately not to think about sharing a bed with Tony in a different context or any feelings he’s started to have. Steve's good at ignoring things: orders he doesn't agree with, Bucky, Clint when he's being particularly annoying and making old man jokes solely to get on Steve's nerves, romantic inklings he may or may not have for people.

But it's especially difficult not to imagine what it’d be like to wake up next to Tony and have Tony smile up at him, going in for a kiss despite morning breath, arguing with Steve over whether or not tooth brushing was needed before a round of morning sex, when Tony is sleeping right there next to him. He can picture it so clearly it aches.

He forces those images out of his head, closing his eyes and reciting significant pop culture events that have occurred within the last century until he falls asleep, telling himself he’ll be up and out of the room before Tony ever opens his eyes.

\---

Steve wakes to a high pitched yelp a couple of hours later. He immediately moves into battle mode because that's something that will never not be ingrained in him but there's no danger, unless one counts an embarrassed and confused Tony Stark as dangerous. Which in this case, Steve does.

“Oh. Tony,” Steve clears his throat, willing himself to say something else. It doesn't work.

“Steven,” Tony says slowly. “What are you doing in my room? And in my bed, might I add.”

“Well ---” Steve starts but Tony interrupts his explanation.

“I’m being _Punk’d_ , aren't I?” Tony says, looking around the room. “I heard they were rebooting that, they're rebooting everything these days. Come on out, Kutcher! I’ve been waiting years to punch your pretty face!”

Steve raises an eyebrow. _Punk’d_ must not have been essential to Sam’s welcome to the 21st century list because Steve doesn't recognize it but he can guess what it was about based on the context clues and honestly, the idea of Steve helping a reality show prank Tony by having Steve slip into his bed is so ludicrous that Steve laughs.

“Oh. Think this is funny, do you?” Tony says, narrowing his eyes.

Steve grins, eyes bright with amusement. “Jarvis, would you please show Tony what he did last night?”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Thank you.”

“What?” Tony asks, grabbing his nearest StarkPad, “What did I do last night?”

Steve crosses his arms and nods toward the device in his hands.

Tony eyes him warily before pressing play at the video loaded on screen.

Steve was right, Tony’s expression was worth the 200 something pound addition to his workout.

“You were sleepwalking,” Steve clarifies needlessly as Tony continues looking at the screen in horror.

After a few seconds Tony looks up, clears his throat, and says faux nonchalantly, “Well, one can't be blamed for what they do whilst sleepwalking. There's been a hundred court cases about it. Look it up. Now, if you'll excuse me.” He starts walking towards the door, Steve following close behind with a smile on his face.

“Wait a minute,” Tony says, turning around and stopping Steve in his tracks.

“That doesn't explain how you ended up in bed with me.”

Steve can feel himself blushing. He hates himself for it. “Like I said,” Steve shrugs, “you were sleepwalking. I brought you up here. You wouldn't let me go. I sat down, waited for you to fall asleep enough that you wouldn't notice if I was gone. Guess I fell asleep.”

Tony thinks this over. “Uh-huh. Well, that's better than what I was thinking. I thought I'd finally, uh…”

Steve sees it the moment Tony freezes. “Thought you'd what?” Steve asks cautiously. Because he can see something else too. Something in Tony’s eyes. Something dangerously close to the thing Steve tries not to let show when he looks at Tony. Something like hope.

“Nothing. Forget about it. Let's go get some coffee. You want coffee?” Tony says, talking a mile a minute.

“Tony.”

Tony pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

“Fuck,” he says and then sighs. “I thought I'd gotten drunk and had finally hit on you,” he mumbles under his breath. Before Steve even has time to let out the breath he was holding, let alone respond, Tony’s talking again.

“Which would be a _disaster_.”

“Tony,” Steve says again, softer this time.

“You know why. I don't need to tell you why. You know.”

“Tony!” Steve says, yelling this time and Steve swears he can see Tony flinch before he turns around.

“Look at me,” Steve says when Tony’s eyes remain stubbornly glued to the floor.

Tony holds his gaze for a second but immediately looks back down again. He starts scratching the back of his neck and is jabbering on about something but Steve doesn't have a clue what it is because he's too busy crossing the floor with determined footsteps, taking Tony’s shocked face in his hands, and kissing him like he's wanted to for he doesn't know how long now.

“Oh,” Tony says once they part, each looking a little kiss drunk.

“You…?” Tony asks, fading off instead of finishing the sentence.

Steve looks directly at Tony, let's his eyes do the talking for him. _Yes_.

There's a heavy, tension-filled silence for a few seconds before Tony's hands are in Steve’s hair, Tony’s tongue in his mouth, Tony’s legs around his waist, his hands under Tony’s ass.

“Okay,” Tony says, pulling away. “You are going to carry me back to that bed and we are not going to have a repeat performance of last night. Clear?”

Steve grins, hoisting Tony up higher and taking delight in the gasp the move elicits from Tony.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hey, that's my line.”

“We’ll see.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, we will.”


End file.
